


Crash, Bam, Thank You Ma'am

by poetzproblem



Category: Glee
Genre: Birthday Sex, Drums, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:06:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetzproblem/pseuds/poetzproblem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She never thought she'd be grateful for having dated Finn Hudson, but for all the pain, shame, and misery that he'd caused her, he'd also given her one thing for which she's suddenly very grateful—drum lessons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crash, Bam, Thank You Ma'am

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:** Just a fun, little, semi-smutty oneshot that I wrote about a month ago and am moving over from my tumblr in a slightly extended form
> 
> Unbetaed, so all mistakes are my own.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Glee or the characters, I just like to play with them…strictly non-profit.

* * *

She never thought she'd be grateful for having dated Finn Hudson, but for all the pain, shame, and misery that he'd caused her, he'd also given her one thing for which she's suddenly very grateful—drum lessons. She hadn't even been all that into it at first, being more of a piano girl, but he'd been so eager to teach her at the time, and she'd figured—what the hell? It was something that she could feign an interest in that was mildly more bearable than football or basketball. It turned out to be pretty fun, and she turned out to be pretty damned good if she does say so herself. Of course, she'd never really bragged about it. It wasn't exactly something that was going to win her any prom queen crowns back in high school or secure her position in any secret societies at Yale.

It isn't until the stars align in such an incredible way to bring Rachel Berry back into her life—front and center and suddenly open to alternate romantic interests that involve decidedly less testosterone—that Quinn has any reason to even consider picking up a pair of drumsticks again. But when she stumbles over her girlfriend of four months drooling over an old video of a scantily clad Sheila E, pounding away at the drums, Quinn can't let the moment slide by without comment.

"I can't help it if I've developed a certain appreciation for drummers, Quinn," Rachel tells her, guiltily pausing the video and quickly shrinking the window on her laptop. "I mean, I did date Finn for a number of years." A fact that Quinn hates to be reminded of, but there's really no avoiding it.

"I never could understand how none of that rhythm ever translated to his dancing," Quinn mutters.

"It is a mystery," Rachel agrees, slipping her arms around Quinn's waist. "But that's all in the past anyway. I'm much more appreciative of your inherent rhythm these days."

Quinn grins. "And Sheila's, apparently."

Rachel blushes and ducks her head. "Can we forget you saw me watching that?"

Quinn pulls Rachel closer to her and kisses her pink cheek. "What do I get if I say yes?" she whispers seductively, happily accepting Rachel's form of payment even as she decides that she won't be forgetting Rachel's secret fetish anytime soon. Especially once she discovers a number of bookmarked drum solos on Rachel's laptop that range from Karen Carpenter and Gina Schock to Meg White, Jen Ledger, and Patty Schemel. It seems like her girlfriend really does have a thing for drummers.

It just so happens that Rachel's birthday is looming on the horizon, and while Quinn certainly has some plans for a perfect birthday weekend that involve a little romance (skating in Central Park) and a nice bit of bling (in the form of a bracelet), she's also thinking about a surprise of a different kind.

It takes a little time and finesse to set it up properly, and she pulls some strings and bribes all the right people to secure some undisturbed time after hours in one of the NYADA practice rooms with a borrowed set of drums. Getting Rachel there on time is easy enough thanks to Kurt and Santana and the promise of a few hours free of witnessing their disgusting Quinchel feels (as Santana calls them) all over the loft. The only real challenge is finding the time in the weeks leading up to December eighteenth to sneak in some practice—because she's really kind of rusty—but she knows someone at Yale who can get her access to a drum kit on campus, and it all comes back to her pretty quickly.

When the time comes, Quinn sets up in the practice room, pulling a pair of sticks out of her bag and laying them across the snare. She takes a breath and unfastens the snap of her jeans, shimmying the denim down her legs. If she's doing this, then she's doing it all the way and giving Rachel a show that will make all those YouTube and Tumblr videos fade right out of her memory. She strips down to her panties—lacy black—and a thin tank top that hugs every curve and rides up her midriff just enough to reveal the cut of her abs. She settles onto the stool before she slides the sticks into her hands, feeling the familiar weight and twirling the right one between her fingers just because she can. She's a little nervous waiting for Rachel, but she really doesn't have anything to lose. She already has Rachel, after all, and that's everything she really needs. This—this is just a bit of fun designed to tease her girlfriend and show off her own secret skill in the process.

Rachel shows up right on time, impatiently calling out to Quinn as she opens door. "There had better be a very good reason that I'm spending my birthday on campus," she complains as she steps into the room, but she stops short the moment she sees Quinn sitting behind the drum set.

Quinn doesn't say a word, but her lips curve into (what she hopes is) a sexy grin as she silently counts off a beat in her head. She brings a stick down against the crash cymbal, kicking the bass to life as she taps out a jazzy rhythm on the hi-hat and lets her left stick fall against the head of the snare. Rachel's mouth falls open as she watches Quinn in awe, and Quinn smirks a little more, closing her own eyes as her body melts into the rhythm.

She can hear the music in her head and enjoys the vibration that travels through her wrists and up her arms as she brings her sticks down against the drum-heads and the cymbals. She's aware of Rachel's dark eyes on her, following every movement as she slowly circles around the room to take in Quinn's performance from every angle.

Quinn is in the middle of paradiddle solo on the tom-toms when she feels a pair of arms wrap around her from behind, throwing her completely off her beat and causing her sticks to click unpleasantly against the rims. "You're killing my jam," she complains good-naturedly, leaning back into the body behind her.

"I couldn't resist. You're not wearing any pants," Rachel says lowly, running her hands over Quinn's belly and down to her naked thighs.

"Too restrictive," she husks.

Rachel moans, still letting her hands freely wander over Quinn's increasingly heated body. "When did you learn to play the drums?" she asks before pressing her lips to Quinn's shoulder and tasting the salt of her perspiration.

"H-High school," Quinn murmurs, allowing her head fall to the side to accommodate Rachel's traveling mouth.

"How did I never know this?" is whispered beneath Quinn's ear.

"You never asked," Quinn answers with a smile. "Do you like your birthday present?"

"I love it," Rachel purrs, pressing one hand between Quinn's legs. Quinn's drumsticks clatter to the floor as she reaches behind her to grab any part of Rachel that she can find. Their lips meet in a heated kiss, but the awkward angle frustrates Quinn, and she tries to spin the stool around, but Rachel has other plans. She pushes the floor tom out of the way, causing a ruckus of crashes and rattles as she straddles Quinn on the stool in her very short skirt, practically sitting on top of the snare. Quinn instinctively wraps her arms around Rachel's waist to keep her from falling backwards.

"Careful," she warns, planting her feet more firmly against the floor for balance, "this is a borrowed set."

"I'll buy it for you," Rachel vows, tugging at Quinn's tank top.

"Where would we even put it?"

"We'll find a place," Rachel insists with a determined glint in her eyes as she pulls Quinn's top over her head. "You're the sexiest drummer I've ever seen, and I demand an encore."

"You didn't even let me finish," Quinn complains.

"I'm about to," Rachel promises, kissing Quinn deeply. She cups Quinn's breasts in her palms and thumbs her nipples, shifting restlessly in her lap and causing the drum set to shake and the rims to knock together. Quinn moans and curls her fingers into Rachel's ass, happy to let her girlfriend have anything she wants, and what she wants is to drive Quinn crazy with need.

Rachel's right hand slips down between Quinn's legs, and her talented fingers begin to stroke tiny, determined circles against her lace covered clit. The hi-hat sounds with a crash when Quinn's leg knocks against the stand, and Rachel chuckles against her lips. The stool wobbles precariously beneath them with the subtle rocking of Quinn's hips.

"W-we're gonna...oh, God," Quinn groans, kicking into the bass drum pedal as she scrambles for purchase, "Rachel! We're gonna end up on the floor," she warns in a rush.

"Only if you let us fall," Rachel murmurs in challenge, stopping her ministrations just long enough to slip her hand inside Quinn's panties and resume her attentions free of any barriers.

Quinn moans, letting her eyes fall closed and her forehead drop onto Rachel's shoulder as she doubles her effort to keep them upright even as her body trembles under Rachel's touch. She desperately wants to slip her own hands under Rachel's blouse, to strip her bare and trace her gorgeous curves with her hands and her mouth, but Rachel has them in such a precarious position as she plays Quinn's body to perfection—every movement causing the snares to rattle and the cymbals to ping. Quinn's pleasure spikes in a quickening tempo, rocking into a rolling crescendo under Rachel's expert strokes until she comes crashing into a wicked orgasm that's so much better than the big finish that she'd originally planned.

Quinn cries out Rachel's name as her back arches, and she vaguely registers the snare smashing to the ground as her arms go lax and her body limp. Rachel somehow manages to keep them from tipping over completely, wrapping her up in deceptively strong arms and gently guiding her down. The next thing Quinn is aware of is that she's laying on the floor next to the drum set, the stool toppled over on its side next to her head, and Rachel sitting astride her waist and gazing down at her with a smug grin.

"Brava," Rachel murmurs, bending down to brush her lips across Quinn's panting mouth.

Quinn huffs out a breathless laugh and lifts her rubbery arms to loosely circle Rachel. "Just give me a minute and we'll try that encore."

"I don't know," Rachel says thoughtfully. "Do you think you can top that performance?"

"That was barely a warmup exercise," Quinn argues, finally able to push her hands underneath Rachel's top and enjoy the feel of her heated flesh. "I owe you the whole shebang. It's your birthday, after all."

Rachel hums in agreement. "And you've already made it very memorable. I got to unwrap a really sexy present," she slides her hands down Quinn's side to tug at her panties, " _and_  bang a drummer into the ground. What more could a girl ask for?"

Quinn gasps at the feel of Rachel shifting seductively over her. Her girlfriend is very clearly still aroused, and Quinn smiles wolfishly right before she flips them over, catching Rachel off guard. "Well," she drawls, tugging open Rachel's blouse. "I could always show you how to do a drag," she offers, and then proceeds to dip her head and drag her tongue in double strokes over Rachel's wonderfully braless breasts and down the length of her torso. Quinn does a slow slide down her body, earning a series of pleased gasps and hums before she finally lifts her head. "And...I've been working on this really," she pushes Rachel's skirt up, "complicated," and she tugs down those sexy polka-dot panties, "lick," she finishes before doing just that to the pretty, pink flesh on display.

Rachel's appreciative moan is music to Quinn's ears, and she's more than happy to accompany her every glorious phrase with a steady rhythm and a sure hand. It turns out to be a very satisfying duet.


End file.
